


A Hitman's Guide to Relationship Problems

by exile_wrath



Series: tumblr minifics [6]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Humor, M/M, Mafia AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 09:04:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12407343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exile_wrath/pseuds/exile_wrath
Summary: Step 1: runStep 2: keep runningStep 3: apologize for keeping secrets from your husbandStep 4: enjoy the make-up sexFor Victor's birthday, Yuuri got him the decapitated head of one of his mortal enemies. But when Yuuri's birthday rolls around, he finds out that Victor forgot to tell him some things. And uses his car to smuggle rifles."What kind of self-respecting policeman would think to check ahot pink Cadillacfor illegal guns?"





	A Hitman's Guide to Relationship Problems

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slightlied](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlied/gifts).



> Happy late birthday gift jus!!!!
> 
> this is a direct sequel to [A Hitman's Guide to Emergency Gift-Giving](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10702755/) so read that first.
> 
> if you don't like casual mentions of murder and violence and shit don't read this lol
> 
> inspired by [this twitter convo](https://twitter.com/exile_wrath/status/905639209595047937)

There comes a time in every person’s life that they worry about being killed by their significant other. Of course, most of the time that worry is very unfounded, as it’s reasonably difficult to take someone yelling, “I’m going to kill you!” because you’ve eaten the last of their favorite pudding seriously. Most of the time, the rage fades fast, and it turns into an incident to laugh over, or stew over for a few days while the offender sleeps on the couch.

However, it’s a completely different story when your name is Victor Nikiforov and your husband is Yuuri Katsuki and you’re both trained fighters that have respectable kill counts. And maybe a suspicious amount of weapons lying around the house.

“You lied!” Yuuri’s voice is a thing of beauty that Victor can’t help but admire even as he ducks behind the kitchen counter to see a knife go flying right where his shoulder had been. “ _Arms trafficking_ , Vitya!? You told me you were an enforcer, so why did I just have to find out that _you use your car to traffic guns and don’t even have the decency to have a false bottom in the trunk!_ ”

“I don’t do it often!” Victor swears, “And I don’t need a false bottom!” he dives to the side, ditching the kitchen entirely as Yuuri dives over the counter, a hundred and fifty pounds of lethality that probably would have suplexed Victor if he’d caught him.

Victor ducks another thrown knife as he rushes for the bedroom, crying internally that this was _not_ how he’d meant Yuuri’s birthday to go.

* * *

It started with Yuuri getting him the head of Dmitry Vaskovich for his birthday last year.

Or maybe it started with Victor buying his pink Cadillac long before he met Yuuri.

Anyway, the crux of the matter is that Victor Nikiforov, enforcer of the Providets Bratva, occasionally assists with arms trafficking operations. There’s only so much for an enforcer to do, after all — Pakhan Khischnik runs a tight ship, so it’s not very often that Victor has to root out traitors and idiots and turn them into examples. Arms trafficking is all about long drives and avoiding the police and getting the goods from Port A to House B, and all of them are simple for Victor.

After all, what self-respecting policeman would think to check a _hot pink Cadillac_ for illegal guns?

Victor has had dead bodies slumped against the windows as he drove past police checkpoints. Guns in the trunk are easy in comparison. He knows the image he projects when he’s dressed casually and out driving — a rich eccentric man with standard Russian driving skills and no reason to hide from the law. Hiding in plain sight works wonders, especially because he knows that at first glance, he doesn’t give off the impression that he’s part of the mob.

Everyone is inclined to underestimate him, up until he kicks a too-intuitive policeman down a flight of stairs, or a would-be traitor gets a knife in his neck. He’s underestimated whenever he’s not wearing a suit, which makes his life generally much easier than many of his fellow bratva have.

Pakhan Khischnik had long seen the value of this, and his involvement in smuggling is appreciated and something he doesn’t think much of these days.

Even when he’d gotten married, he hadn’t been inclined to tell Yuuri about it. Between the both of them, arms smuggling wasn’t much of a moral issue. They both kill people on the regular, after all, so what’s a few runs here and there?

Apparently, Yuuri hadn’t thought so. “Your present in the back of my car!” Victor had said as he swept in the apartment on the morning of November 29th.

He’d meant the interpol agent in the backseat.

Not the rifles in the trunk.

* * *

 

“Yuuri, please talk to me!” Victor cries, safely on the other side of their reinforced bedroom door. He hears his husband kick the handle in frustration. “I never lied about anything!”

Yuuri’s voice is lovely even when he’s inclined to causing bodily harm. Victor would argue _especially_ so. “I married you thinking that you were an enforcer!” he snaps, irritation audible even through the thick wood and steel. “Not a gun-runner! And you didn’t think to tell me?”

Victor runs his hands through his hair in frustration. “Luchik, we kill people. I don’t see why you’re so upset.” He’s wheedling, he’s aware, but Victor is genuinely puzzled about Yuuri’s ire.

Thank god their apartment is an entire floor and they don’t have to worry about killing any neighbors for eavesdropping.

The killing intent decreases, and he hears Yuuri stop his prowling. “Vitya, you being brought in on murder charges is something we’re prepared for,” he says. “We have contingencies in place. We don’t have any for you possibly being caught with a trunk full of rifles.”

Ah. That is... something that he hadn’t really considered, to be honest. “You worry too much, luchik,” Victor says as soothingly as possible, opening the bedroom door and gathering his darling up in his arms. “My boss is aware, and even if we have no immediate countermeasures, he has plans for almost everything. And if not, I’m sure your father wouldn’t mind lending a hand.” He can’t help the shrug.

“... I didn’t see a present anywhere in the trunk,” Yuuri says quietly. It’s an olive branch to resolve their spat, and Victor takes it gladly. The damage inflicted to the walls and kitchen less so, but those things are replaceable, unlike their relationship.

Victor loops his arm around Yuuri’s waist. “By the back, I meant backseat, dear. Not the trunk.”

“... Oh.”

* * *

 

Agent Eva Nhan’s corpse tumbles out of the backseat without much fanfare. Victor had strangled her, and St. Petersburg is very cool, so the body is in pristine condition for Yuuri to appreciate.

He stands in a way that anyone that could possibly come by the car wouldn’t be able to see much, but he can still see the way that Yuuri’s face flickers between, surprise, wariness, and then delight within a second. “ _You didn’t_ ,” he gasps. Victor preens a little at the awe in his voice. “How did you even get her?”

“Some contacts spotted her in the south, so I decided that I would pick up a present for you,” Victor says simply. It hadn’t been that simple, of course. Ms. Nhan had infiltrated the lower ranks of the Thousand Fangs triad two years ago in order to dig up info on that leader’s top assassins. Yuuri had caught her snooping on a visit to the main estate, but she’d managed to shoot him near his femoral artery and got away.

Thankfully, the doctor in the employ of the Thousand Fangs was very good at what he did, or Victor would have lost Yuuri on their first anniversary.

 _Maybe strangling was too nice,_ Victor muses, looking at the ligature marks on her neck as Yuuri zipped her up in a bodybag that had been under all the guns in the trunk. “I should have taken her back alive so you could have killed her any way you wanted,” Victor thinks aloud.

Yuuri pauses, his pupils blowing wide with lust for a moment, and Victor laments the fantastic sex they could have had right after killing her together. “This is wonderful already, Vitya,” he assures him, trailing a hand down his arm. He smiles in a way that Victor would kiss it off of him if they didn’t have a body to move right now. “I’ll use her to send a message; my father will be pleased.”

“Remind interpol that coming near those you are sworn to protect is a terrible idea.” If Victor’s voice dips an octave and he leans in for a chaste kiss, well, Eva Nhan’s body isn’t going anywhere.

They set her body in the sterile room that Victor usually uses to take care of traitors, Yuuri tapping at his phone and speaking in rapid-fire Chinese to someone that’s probably from his triad. Victor raises an eyebrow when he hangs up. “You ordered a thousand snake fangs?”

“They’ll get the message when her body shows up pierced with every single one of them,” Yuuri says sweetly. “I gave you a mortal enemy’s head in a box, you gave me the body of someone I hate. Don’t normal couples give jewelry or go on dates on birthdays?” He’s teasing, Victor knows, so he bends down to kiss that tease off Yuuri’s lips, their mouths opening to give way to something filthier, his hands trailing down to Yuuri’s ass.

“We still have the rest of the day to celebrate,” he murmurs, breaking off their kiss for a moment to savor Yuuri’s expression of mixed lust and bloodlust. “Happy birthday, _luchik_.”

Yuuri beams happily, but frowns a moment later. “You should get a false bottom for your trunk,” he says abruptly.  “Just because you got me an interpol agent’s corpse doesn’t mean you’re off the hook for that.”

Victor sighs. “As you say, Yuuri.” He winces internally at the knife-marks littering the kitchen as they walk through, thankful that even though they had fought on Yuuri’s birthday, it hadn’t ended too badly.

(Last time they had fought, they nearly destroyed their hotel suite. The repair bill had been almost as terrifying as his pakhan’s expression.)

* * *

 

“Are there any other businesses that you’re involved in that I should know about?” Yuuri murmurs three rounds of mindblowing sex later.

Victor thinks hard, which is not easy to do after said three rounds of mindblowing sex. “I was involved in running brothels when I was younger, but I don’t think so.”

Yuuri sits up. “You _what_.”

Victor abruptly remembers that his triad doesn’t touch human trafficking with a thirty-meter stick, and that brothels usually indicate human trafficking. “It was just prostitution, not trafficking-”

_“You have three seconds to run.”_

* * *

 

“Hey old man, why do I have to bail you out for public indecency?” Yura grouses. “And seriously, public indecency? Of all things for you to be arrested for?”

“I’d like to see _you_ try to run from your husband after sex and save your life _and_ your dignity at the same time,” Victor sniffs.

**Author's Note:**

> [writing sideblog](http://plotmaster.tumblr.com/)  
> [main tumblr](http://exile-wrath.tumblr.com/)  
>     
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/exile_wrath)


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